


The Answer To The Question Of You

by Tournesol



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, spoiler alert: they're huge saps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 19:01:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6622522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tournesol/pseuds/Tournesol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sledge gets to spend time with Snafu in his dorm room and it leads to some interesting revelations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Answer To The Question Of You

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction based on the fictional characters from the show. No disrespect meant to the real guys.  
> Title from the Prince song The Question Of U

It’s late when Sledge ambles away from the room he shares with Sid, walking quite aimless in the direction of the communal hall. He’s sure to find someone there despite the late hour because that room is simply never empty, the early risers replacing the nocturnal sorts at dawn as if relieving them of their shift. 

It’s not quite how Sledge planned to end his day, and Sid is usually a considerate roommate and is always accommodating Sledge when he has company but there was no way Sid could have warned Sledge beforehand when Mary decided to surprise him by showing up and and sneaking into their dorm room.

Sid had looked contrite and had meant it, but Sledge had dismissed their remarks and been gracious enough to let the lovebirds have the room to themselves. He’d grabbed a book, (never leaving anywhere without one), with half a thought to see what Jay or maybe Burgie were up to.

He knocks on Burgie’s door lightly after seeing light streaming from underneath and lets himself in when he hears someone mutter “come in” absentmindedly.   
It’s not Burgie but Snafu, Burgie’s roommate and Sledge’s assigned lab partner in his bio class. At first Sledge doesn’t quite know what to say.   
“Is Burgie around?” He asks lamely. 

“Nah he ain’t here, he’s on a date with Florence, he won’t be coming back tonight.”

Snafu didn’t turn around as he said this, hunched over his desk. He turns after a moment of silence, looking at Sledge standing in the doorway out of sorts.

“What is it you wanted anyway Sledgehamma.”

“Sid is entertaining a guest so I thought I would see if Burgie would hang out.”

Sledge expects a teasing remark for his use of the outdated expression but in lieu of the cutting tone he expected, Snafu’s usual sharp edges are smoothed tonight and he simply replies “Well like I said Burgie is out but you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you want, I’m sure Burgie won’t mind you taking his bed. Won’t be much company though, kind of in the middle of something.” 

Taken aback, Sledge can do nothing but let his gentlemanly manner have him utter a “thank you” as if on auto pilot before making his way into the room and sitting on Burgie’s bed. He opens his book to pick up where he left off but finds himself staring at Snafu instead, bent over in concentration over his work.

Snafu is an enigma. To say that they started off on the wrong foot would be an understatement. Sledge tries to conjure up the first impression Snafu made on him. If he didn’t believe in not judging a book by its cover, he'd have labeled Snafu as an asshole and not bothered to know the guy further. But ever since that day, a myriad of other moments comes to mind, and like pieces of a puzzle, Sledge tries to assemble them in his mind to try and have the whole picture of him. 

Sure, Snafu can be an asshole, never knowing when to stop and manifesting his affection in the kind of prickly attitude that Sledge has now come to realize is tough love. If not for the friends they have in common, acting as Snafu’s human credentials, Sledge would not have bothered making sense of Snafu, would have made do with simply tolerating the man and his antics. But their friends are good people and Sledge trusts them, enough to know then that there is something more to Snafu. 

Sledge has come to identify Snafu’s usual air of carelessness as the attitude of the man who wants to appear to be caring very little about anything to hide that he cares too much, wearing his prickly armour to hurt first instead of being the one hurt. Driving others away before they get the chance to do so, making him think about the deeper meaning behind Snafu pulling his pigtails.

He remembers sitting alone in the hall, crying, after hearing about the passing of his beloved dog Deacon. Snafu had inquired about him gently and sat next to him and bumped their shoulders together. For once he’d known not to tease. He’d tried to make Sledge feel better and even though the attempt had been clumsy, the attention was what had counted and Sledge has found himself going back to that moment more times that he can account for.

There’s that charged tension between them, how sometimes when Sledge gets near Snafu recoils at the sudden closeness.There’s also the looks in his direction when Snafu thinks Sledge isn’t looking, the gray in those eyes like a storm, unfathomable as ever, but it makes something lodge in Sledge’s chest every time. The feeling is as puzzling as the man itself, something warm making his skin prickle. Sledge’s found himself looking at Snafu more often than not lately and doesn’t quite know what to make of this. He hasn’t even talked about this with Sid yet, which feels damning in its own right. 

Sledge shuts down this train of thought and looks at Snafu instead when he hears him sigh in apparent frustration. He’s been in his situation before, stuck on homework. Sometimes all you need is a little push, a change in perspective provided by an outsider, so Sledge asks:

“What are you working on?”

Sledge grabs Burgie’s chair from his side of the room when Snafu motions for him to go take a look. He tries to listen to what Snafu is explaining about his woodwork project but his words don’t quite register. 

Snafu is animated in a way Sledge rarely ever gets a chance to witness, but alone in his room, in his space, he seems stripped of his layers of bravado. Sledge is transfixed, aware that it’s a rare opportunity to see Snafu caring and willing to share something that is obviously close to him. His hands move in graceful gestures as his fingers point a specific aspect of his work he wants to show Sledge. When he leans, so close to Snafu,he can smell Snafu’s soap, clinging to his curls, still wet from his shower, as well as the scent of cedar that he’s come to associate with Snafu and that he understands now comes from this. 

Sledge cannot help with Snafu’s problem and even more so finds himself with a problem of his own because in so close proximity, with Snafu so tangible and unguarded next to him, pieces click into place and Sledge can finally put a finger of what’s caused all this confusion about Snafu. It’s been there all this time but he wasn’t seeing it, but now that he’s gathered all the evidence and connected the dots he’s afforded a newfound clarity: it’s attraction. And if he’s honest with himself it’s more than that. His breath is suspended on the revelation, at feelings that run deeper than physical attraction alone. 

Sledge doesn’t know what his face is doing but Snafu’s attention has shifted from his work to Sledge and his brows are furrowed in concern. “You alright, Sledge?” he asks.

Sledge’s heart is beating so fast, “yes, yes I am, but there’s something I need to tell you.” 

“oooookay,” he answers, puzzled. 

Sledge swallows, a fortifying gulp. He wants to be bold now that he can’t ignore the truth any longer. He thinks about all the things he missed when he was young and frail, when he had the will but lacked the strength, so he sees no reason why he should wait this time. Tentatively, he puts his hand over Snafu’s. Snafu tenses briefly but doesn’t wrench his hand away. 

_Bold_. “Snafu, I think I have feelings for you.” There, he did it. 

Snafu blinks prettily, “what,” he replies, as if Sledge’s words made no sense. 

“I have feelings for you,” repeats Sledge, with more conviction. It feels liberating to say it, like a dam broke and all he wants to do is to say it again and again, so he does: “I have feelings for you. Romantic feelings.” He exhales a shaky breath, and now that he’s not so consumed by his own internal turmoil, he fixes Snafu to appraise his reaction, see if he missed the mark completely and if Snafu will cast him out for breaching their friendship.

He’s looking at Snafu’s eyes, those gray eyes that look electric in the dim light of the room and that keep looking from Sledge’s eyes to his mouth. 

Snafu’s hand under his moves, and Sledge thinks he’s gonna pry it away and put some distance between himself and Sledge, but wonder of wonders, he turns it to hold Sledge’s hand instead. “Can I kiss you?” Snafu asks, after what seems to be the longest pause. He’s gentle, gentler than Sledge ever heard him. 

Sledge can do nothing but smile and nod enthusiastically. With the acknowledgement of this thing between them, tension becomes anticipation. They let the pull drive them together, inching closer by increments. Snafu pauses a breath away, until Sledge can feel the warmth of it against his lips. The tip of his tongue darts against his bottom lip and he bridges the last of the distance, marvels at the softness of Snafu’s lips against his. It’s gentle and warm, and not with lack of spark but with reverence, something Sledge didn’t expect and which brings a pang in his chest. 

When they break the kiss, Sledge opens his eyes to find Snafu’s still closed and his lips parted still, his tongue running over them as if to chase the kiss. He can’t stop smiling and his cheeks feel warm. He’s no doubt crimson, something that used to make him feel self conscious when he couldn’t hide his emotions but he doesn’t care now, because Snafu should know. 

There’s a short moment where they look at each other with a new understanding, a moment of pause to embrace the shift in their relationship, to mark words that are unspoken. 

And then Snafu leans in again and claims him in a second kiss, and he’s holding nothing back, his mouth telling what his eyes have done a hundred, a thousand times in the past, back when Sledge didn’t understand. Because finally they’re speaking the same language and Sledge responds in kind to the slick slide of Snafu’s tongue against his own. He’s not so experienced, but he must be doing something right from the way Snafu will bite his lips and give these little hums that Sledge doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of hearing. 

When Snafu cups his cheek to tilt their heads at a better angle, Sledge sighs into the kiss. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, keeps half reaching for Snafu, wanting to touch everywhere at once but Snafu’s hand on him is a grounding presence. It clears Sledge’s mind enough to give him direction, so he does something he’s longed for for a long time and cards his fingers through Snafu’s curls.   
They resurface from this kiss like from underwater, catching necessary breaths. They’re still clinging to one another, and Snafu is looking at him with an awed expression. 

“Jesus fucking christ Sledge,” replies Snafu. His hand is on Sledge’s neck, his thumb brushing soothing circles onto his skin. “Fuck. I’ve wanted to do this forever Sledge, you have no idea,” he adds. 

“Why didn’t you?” 

“I don’t know, didn’t think that I should, didn’t think that I could…” 

The end of the sentence is flippant but Sledge knows to recognize the truths Snafu hides in plain sight. The angle they’re at is awkward but the distance between them is too much after the closeness of the kiss, so Sledge leans in and wraps his arms around Snafu, resting his head in the crook of his neck. His hands grip Snafu’s tee-shirt and he doesn’t know if it’s for his benefit or Snafu’s. It doesn’t matter. 

For a moment they settle into a comfortable silence, with Snafu gently running his fingertips up and down Sledge’s back. They’re settling easily into that new intimacy, a far cry from Snafu awkward around him at times, shying away from his touch, which Sledge guesses now was Snafu afraid of giving himself away. 

“I must say, that’s not how I pictured my day endin’. I feel like I’m dreamin’ and gonna wake up any minute. Can I ask ,” starts Snafu, “why today? You looked like your brain was gonna leak out your ears any minute, ‘Gene.” 

It figures that Snafu wasn’t privy to Eugene’s inner monologue that led to this particular epiphany, and Sledge feels like he ought to at least try to explain.   
“I guess I’ve felt that way for some time, but it happened gradually so I didn’t really notice until now. And there’s the day my dog died and you stayed with me in the hall, I don’t know why but I keep thinking about that moment.” At that Snafu tightens his hold on Sledge and it’s all the answer Sledge gets. He knows it’ll take some time for Snafu to process it and believe him but at least he didn’t have to dodge one of Snafu’s snarky rebuttals. “Can I ask when it was for you?” 

“Remember that day you had to clean up the lab?” Says Snafu, smile coloring his voice. “You looked like an angry kitten, it was cute.” 

At that Sledge leans back to face Snafu. “Snaf... That was the day we met,” he says, incredulous.

“I know.”

“But… I thought you hated me!” 

“Hey now I never said I was smart about it.”

Now it’s Sledge’s turn to process all of this. “So. Are we really doing this then?”

Snafu, painfully honest, shrugs, “Whatever you want,” he replies, as if he’d settle for anything Sledge’d suggest. Happy to live on scraps. 

“Well what do YOU want?” 

“I don’t know man, as long as we’re together I’m game. What do you want?”

“I want a relationship. I would like to date you, properly.” It’s easier to voice what Sledge wants once the initial declaration is out, and it’s worth it to see Snafu’s shy smile in answer. And then, because he can, he kisses Snafu. 

“Burgie is gonna be so smug,” groans Snafu against Sledge’s lips. “He’s been tellin’ me to talk to you for fuckin’ ever.”

Sledge can do nothing but smile, he’s smiled so much in the last minutes that his cheeks hurt. 

After that Snafu gets back to his work, with Sledge closeby. They settle into an easy conversation, getting to know each other. The shift in their relationship is noticeable in Snafu’s attitude: he doesn’t try so hard to be aggravating and to tease mercilessly for attention and Sledge delights in getting to see a genuine side of him, comfortable, talking about everything and nothing, conversation punctuated with kisses. It’s the finest evening Sledge has spent in a long time. 

When the hour grows late and and they can no longer stifle their yawns, they make to go to bed. They agreed, if not to take things slow, not to rush either, so it was settled that Sledge would sleep in Burgie’s bed.

After a goodnight kiss, it’s just the two of them in the darkness with the whole expanse of a room between them. Sledge means to fall asleep, but his mind is racing with the excitement of the day and he can’t stop thinking about Snafu, not when he’s so close and still out of reach. Normally he would just pick up a book because Sid doesn’t mind the light, but he’s not sure with Snafu so he keeps tossing and turning. 

“You gon’ toss and turn all night Sledge?”

“Did I wake you? I’m sorry.” 

“Nah, I’m not getting much sleep either. Listen, if you wanted, you could come over here. To sleep.” 

Snafu’s tone is gentle and honest and Sledge sighs, fondness gripping his chest. Is it possible to miss a person when they’re still in the same room, just meters away from you? He finds he wants what’s Snafu’s offering so he pads silently over to him. 

In the darkness Snafu scoots to make room for him and it’s effortless to settle into that space that Snafu made for them. There’s the shuffle of two people new at intimacy trying to arrange themselves to sleep in a single bed, the push and pull to accommodate different sleeping habits, trying to be casual about having the other’s body pressed against you all over. 

They settle on their sides, Snafu warm behind Sledge, an arm draped comfortably over Sledge’s waist. 

“Good?” asks Snafu, nosing at the nape of Sledge’s neck. 

“Good,” answers Sledge, when he means brilliant, ecstatic, fantastic, squeezing Snafu’s hand over his stomach for emphasis. 

Sledge turns to give Snafu a goodnight kiss, because he wants to, because that’s allowed. He meant for it to be a quick, chaste press of their lips, but when he breaks away he finds he doesn’t want to stop, still wants to kiss those lips. There’s a pause when they’re twisting awkwardly, and it’s the lie of omission of all the tales which go on and on about the moment just before a kiss but fail to mention that the moment right after is just as charged, just as special. This is one is for the books. 

Snafu hasn’t moved, his neck still craned in Sledge’s direction, and it’s so easy for Sledge to tilt his head just so to taste those lips again. So easy to roll over until he’s pressing Snafu into the mattress, until Snafu hums and frames Sledge’s face with both hands to keep him close. It’s fevered, Snafu’s heat seeping into him, the wet noises from their kisses and their panting a deafening roar in the darkness. 

If kissing Snafu at his desk had been a spectacular experience, kissing Snafu on his bed, under the cover of darkness, is beyond description, not when there’s so much of Snafu to feel, the way his chest heaves against his when he breaks the kiss to breathe, the way he curls his feet against Sledge’s leg every time he does something Snafu particularly likes. 

There is so much of Snafu for Sledge to touch and he wants. Sledge settled for bed in a t-shirt and briefs, Snafu in just his briefs which Sledge knows is for his benefit, having heard enough Snafu Sleeping In The Nude stories from Burgie. Sledge is half sprawled on Snafu, trailing his hand up and down Snafu’s chest, feeling his heartbeat and the breaths he takes on his fingertips like braille. 

Snafu keeps making these hums and Sledge is stunned, because he’s the one making him do that. Sledge has his hand in Snafu’s curls, and the noise Snafu makes when Sledge accidentally tightens his hold on them when Snafu gets his hands under Sledge’s tee shirt has Sledge panting against Snafu’s neck to catch his breath. He starts peppering kisses there, because he liked the way it felt when Snafu did it earlier. He’s rewarded by Snafu exclaiming _Fuck!_ when Sledge sucks a bruise there. 

Snafu is squirming, away from Sledge, has been doing so to the point that he is now plastered against the wall. The break in contact affords Sledge some clarity, lost that he was in Snafu’s touch. 

They look at each other, panting.   
“Is this okay?” asks Sledge, when he sees Snafu on the far edge of the bed. Snafu laughs, a bit hysterically.

“Listen, this is more than okay, this is a little too okay,” he says, adjusting the waistband of his briefs. “We said we wouldn’t rush and I’m okay with that but man, you’re in my bed, half naked and sucking on my tongue. Trying to keep my cool here.”

Sledge is similarly afflicted, and because Snafu is warm and close, utterly irresistible, he leans in to kiss him once more. It’s not as rushed as they were, but it’s deep, meaningful. Sledge thinks about what he wants, gives it the consideration he needs to. His character advises caution, not one to make hasty decisions. But at that moment he’s also acutely aware of Snafu so close. His body wants, that much is plain. He thinks about Snafu, soft and gentle, and finds his body and mind aligned in will. In the end it’s a matter of trust, and the fact that he trusts Snafu is what settles it. 

Sledge sits up and takes his shirt off. Even in the darkness he can see Snafu’s eyes widening. He sees adoration and a hint of the pain that used to inhabit those eyes, before Sledge could understand where it came from. The depth of feeling is as electrifying as Snafu’s hands on him. 

Sledge leans down for a kiss, and it feels like he’ll never get used to this, how every kiss feels like a first kiss with Snafu. With the added skin on skin contact, their next kiss takes on a dirtier edge. They let their hands roam all over each other as they kiss languidly, getting closer and closer until they seal the space between them, and Sledge gives himself over to the kiss. Snafu keeps sighing and in the darkness they’re as loud as shouts of exultation. Their legs are tangled together and it feels so so good, and Sledge feels more and more daring, his hand trailing lower and lower down Snafu’s back until it settles on his ass, eliciting the most gorgeous noise. 

At that Snafu rolls over Sledge and his weight on him feels amazing, feels right. He’s braced on his elbows over him and when he leans down, he noses along the side of Sledge’s neck teasingly until Sledge is a panting mess. When he finally puts his lips on his neck, Sledge is so wound up his hips buck up and he lets out a strangled moan at the friction.

“If I do something you don’t like, tell me to stop, alright?” says Snafu against his lips. 

Sledge nods, and Snafu kisses him again, and this time when Sledge’s hips buck up, Snafu pushes down and swallows Sledge’s subsequent moan. They’re both hard, the friction delicious but not enough, but a good enough tease so they keep doing this some more for some time, until Sledge gets louder and louder, until he grabs Snafu’s ass with both hands to push him down harder against him. 

Now that they’ve found a certain balance to it, Snafu’s mouthy tendencies have come back, and he hasn’t stopped talking, “do you like this, Eugene,” he says after a vicious thrust of his hips. 

Eugene is babbling, “yes, yes I like this, yes. I like you,” he says, and at that Snafu has to hide his smile in Sledge’s neck, because it figured Sledge would be earnest and honest about this.

Snafu kisses Sledge again, doing that wicked thing with his tongue that he’s realized Sledge loves so much. When he breaks the kiss, he whispers against Sledge’s lips: “there’s something I wanna do for you, tell me to stop if you don’t like it, alright?”

At Sledge’s nod, he leans over to rummage through the contents of his bedside table drawer. He gets back, condom in hand which he puts next to him on the bed, and kisses Sledge once more. He kisses his mouth first, slides lower to bite and kiss his neck, gets his cues from the sounds Sledge makes. 

Sledge’s mind is racing, but the attention Snafu is lavishing upon him settles his nerves, anticipation making his skin tingle where he thinks Snafu is gonna touch him next. 

Snafu trails his fingertips down his chest, feather light, mapping the planes and hollows of him, hinting at the path he’ll go with his mouth. He goes slow, whether to wind Sledge up or to keep him at ease, Sledge doesn’t know. 

Snafu’s mouth is making its way down on his chest and Sledge feels himself melt on the bed, feels like he would disappear down the earth if the mattress wasn’t supporting him. In that moment it seems like Snafu’s hands and mouth on him are the only thing holding him together, the only thing that feels real. Snafu keeps biting on his collarbones and sucking bruises into his pale skin and the pleasure-pain is just right.

Snafu is dedicated to map Sledge’s body with his mouth, to find sensitive spots and file them for future reference. He’s an avid explorer. When his teeth close on Sledge’s nipple, testing different pressures, Sledge yelps and Snafu’s answering grin is feral. Sledge feels his cheeks heat and when he covers his face with his hands, Snafu pries them off softly. 

Snafu crawls back up momentarily, still holding Sledge’s hands. “Too much too soon?” 

“No, I’m good, really good. This is good”

“Well don’t hide then ‘Gene, you know I like you vocal,” he says, biting Sledge on the chest to make him yelp.

As difficult as it is to chastise someone when you’re hard and flustered and they’re sprawled between our legs, there is an attempt, that leaves them both laughing until Snafu crawls back down to continue tormenting Sledge with with his smart mouth. 

At first, Sledge tries to muffle the noises he’s making, bites his lip and tries to control the sound he makes, but the lower Snafu gets, the more his control crumbles. When Snafu gets below his navel, his breath warm on his skin, Sledge stops fighting it, stops trying to be silent and still. One of his hands shoots to grip the pillow behind him, hard, while the other gets a handful of Snafu’s curls. 

“Fuck- Mer-” he mutters when Snafu palms him over his briefs. 

“Do you want this, Eugene?” asks Snafu, half teasing half wanting to make sure. He needs to hear him say it.   
Sledge nods, and Snafu won’t have it. “Was that a yes?” he asks, and he’s definitely teasing. 

“YES!” all but shouts Sledge, “yes, yes yes yes-” and after that he can’t stop saying it. He keeps saying it over and over again like a chant, like he’s cheering Snafu, does it when Snafu mouths at his cock over his briefs, when he runs his hand up and down his inner thigh, his thumb this side of ticklish. 

After Snafu gets him out of his briefs (he did it slowly, never once breaking eye contact) he get his off as well, and sits back on his haunches between Sledge’s legs. He stares and his eyes on Sledge’s body feel like a caress, like a promise. Snafu looks magnificent, his stance proud, nothing like his usual slouch. He looks victorious, exalted, his fine lines reminiscent of classical statuary, but his gaze is heated and his gentle touch holds nothing of the coldness of marble. 

Snafu stays silent for a moment, speechless under the weight of too many words to say at once. Until: “you’re gonna be the end of me Eugene,” he says, strangely light and vulnerable, as if he were the one coming apart at the seams when he’s the one worshipping Sledge with his mouth. 

Sledge feels on fire, amazed by the all compassing reaction of his body to Snafu’s attention, his mind blown by Snafu’s selflessness. It’s not that he expected Snafu to be bad at it, but the reality of it is beyond imagination. Snafu is considerate and attentive, makes Sledge his sole focus point and watches for his slightest reactions to repeat what works and cease what doesn’t. It’s so good and what makes it so beyond the physical is the intimacy and trust, because Sledge feels safe and held. 

When Snafu holds the condom up, his eyes a question, Sledge nods and Snafu makes quick work of opening it and rolling it on Sledge. He gives Sledge’s cock two testing strokes that punch the air out of Sledge’s chest. The build up for this has been so intense that Sledge feels worked up by the simplest touch on his skin. He knows what Snafu is going to do and it’s just a matter of time, that Snafu is stretching between the two of them to the until anticipation makes Sledge snap. 

It gets worse when Snafu starts talking. How he keeps voicing in that enchanting, maddening voice of his just what he wants to do to Sledge, and if Sledge would like it if he did. He keeps talking about wanting to get his mouth on Sledge but not doing it until Sledge starts to respond in kind to his taunting, keeps humming and moaning, squirming under Snafu. But what does it is Sledge murmuring one final word.

“Please…” he says, strangled, breathy. He wouldn’t recognize his own voice. It’s all he keeps saying again and again after that, the only coherent word his brain can form. 

When Snafu finally gets his mouth on his cock, mouthing ever slowly and teasingly from base to tip, Sledge lets out the dirtiest moan. He’s wild with it, keeps gripping Snafu’s pillow in a white knuckled grip and is shaking with how taut he is, trying to keep still and failing. Snafu has to put an arm across his hips and put his weight on is him to stop him from bucking off the bed. 

It feels so, so good, Snafu’s mouth hot on him, his hand tight where his mouth can’t reach. 

“Fuck, Snaf, fuck…” He’s loud, would be mortified if he could register anything other than Snafu. He can’t. 

Snafu tries every tricks he knows, and he’s going to ruin Sledge with the pressure of his tongue and the suction of his mouth, and Sledge knows he’s not going to last because this is TOO good. 

His hand is resting in Snafu’s soft curls, and Snafu’s rhythm is fast and unforgiving. His toes are curling with how good this feel, how his whole body is responding in kind to Snafu’s attentions, how he feels the heat of Snafu’s mouth making his skin burn up, a contrast with the cold air of the room on his damp skin. He feels the buzz start in his chest and curl around his spine, feels it pool low in his stomach. 

“Snaf, Snaf, I’m gonna come,” he barely has time to warn before Snafu swallows him deep, pushing him over the edge.

The next 30 seconds or so are a bit blur. But when Sledge opens his eyes he finds Snafu hovering over him, and Sledge can do nothing but put one arm around his neck and pull him into a languid kiss. He feels content, his body humming with his release and with the closeness with Snafu. 

There’s the needed time out to deal with the condom and for Sledge to get his wits back, but soon enough, they’re back in bed, kissing, their new normal. 

Sledge can’t stop smiling, his body feels pliant and content and Snafu is warm and soft over him. He can feel Snafu’s hard cock press against his belly, and his desperation tints their kisses with a sharp edge of hunger. 

Sledge is sitting up against the headboard with Snafu in his lap.   
“Just, give me one sec to recover and I’m all yours,” he murmurs against Snafu’s lips. He’s not sure he can make his limbs work.

“You don’t have to, I can-”

“-I want to,” he replies, and Snafu can do nothing but look at him, astonished. “I want you to show me what you like,” he adds, kissing his neck and trailing a hand low over Snafu’s chest, down his belly, feeling the muscles twitch under his fingers. 

Sledge wraps his hand slowly around Snafu’s cock, gives one light, testing stroke. Snafu’s answering gasp against his lips is a brilliant reward, Snafu’s eyes never leaving his sending a chill up his spine. He tests different strokes until Snafu twist from his arms to rummage in his bedside table drawer for lube. With the added slick it’s easy for Snafu to wrap his hand around Sledge’s to show him how best to get him off. 

Sledge is surprised by Snafu’s silence. It seems his brash mouth doesn’t extend to the bedroom, leaving Sledge unmoored, his silence solemn but not devoid of meaning. Snafu is resplendent. His red kissed lips are parted, and his chest shines with perspiration and exertion whenever his body responds to the twists of Sledge’s wrist. If not words, he gives out those little moans and whimpers that Sledge drinks like vintage, heady with it. 

Snafu’s body in undulating gracefully and Sledge wants to tease and draw things out but finds that he can’t. He want to see and feel Snafu come apart over him, against him, because of him. He knows he’s close from the way his hips buck up, from the peculiar frown of concentration he sports. 

He witnesses the gray of his eyes darken, the way his cheeks flush impossibly darker. Snafu keeps letting out those soft “Oohs” and “Aahs” that Sledge can’t get tired of and which are getting more and more frequent and louder the faster he twists his wrist. He feels Snafu’s body getting taut, until at last he comes over Sledge’s hand and slumps against him, letting out a long, broken moan, that Sedge fixes in his memory. 

Snafu clings to Sledge as he regains his breath, and Sledge finds he’s not to keen on letting go either. He wraps his arms around Snafu, mindful of the mess on his hand and holds on.

Snafu’s head is resting against the crook of his neck, his breath warm and his lips soft. His fingertips are stroking the fine hair at the nape of his neck and all is good with the world. 

They stay like that for a moment until they start shivering, and Snafu urges them back under the cover after wiping Sledge’s hand with a tee shirt he picked up from the floor, despite Sledge’s complaints. 

They’re lying face to face in the darkness and Sledge sighs. It’s a happy sigh. Their legs are tangled together and they’re blinking against sleep, as if gorging on the sight of the other before they’re out for the count, as if to make the moment and the fine day last longer. Sledge moves his hand to Snafu’s face to stroke his thumb over Snafu’s cheek and feels his chest burst with fondness when he leans into the touch. It’s sappy but what’s sappy after a romantic declaration followed by great sex. They’ve earned their sappiness.

“Good night Mer,” he whispers in the dark.

“‘Night “Gene,” mumbles Snafu. “See ya in the morning, ‘Gene”

“Mhm…”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to my gals [gingereskimoo](http://gingereskimoo.tumblr.com) & [Janey](http://davidcoverdaleshairspray.tumblr.com) for the hand holding.  
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://hugatreeortwo.tumblr.com)


End file.
